


jackal king

by gearyoak



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Graphic Violence, M/M, Murder, Serial Killers, Unhealthy Relationships, all points actually, gaslighting at some point, i feel it necessary for me to say that i don't condone this shit lmao, tags will be added but just know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearyoak/pseuds/gearyoak
Summary: A new kid in Ormond was a big deal.The last time the town got lucky - if you could even say that - was about a quarter of a way into the school year last year. Some time between November and December, Frank Morrison had crossed the town’s border after an eight hour drive and the whole student body of Ormond High held their breath. A week of knowing Frank Morrison, they all collectively released it in a sigh. First impressions were never his strong suit. Impressions in general were never his strong suit, actually. Ormond High rolled their eyes and moved on, resigned to the fact that their New Kid Adventure began and ended with the blight of Frank Morrison.Then, roughly a year later, a second chance came along by way of Danny Johnson.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Frank Morrison
Comments: 38
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a bit of fun, not taking this too seriously. honestly trying to make this "new kid comes to town and convinces his crush to kill ppl he doesn't like with him" idea come out not too much like heathers lmao 
> 
> sorry if the characterization seems, like, self indulgent. it's because it is :^)

A new kid in Ormond was a big deal.

In the grand scheme of things, someone new moved into town about once every five years. The chances of them having an actual, living, breathing kid was slim on top of that. Even slimmer were the chances that the kid wasn’t a toddler and the new people weren’t a fresh-faced couple “trying something new”. One half of a winter would send them packing back to the states and Ormond would go back to how it was before they came along. 

The last time the town got lucky - if you could even say that - was about a quarter of a way into the school year last year. Some time between November and December, Frank Morrison had crossed the town’s border after an eight hour drive and the whole student body of Ormond High held their breath. A week of knowing Frank Morrison, they all collectively released it in a sigh. First impressions were never his strong suit. Impressions in general were never his strong suit, actually. 

After the first day the new kid had spent in class, they chalked up his sneering as a side effect from a shitty trip spent cooped up in a car. More days passed. After being trapped in a conversation he didn’t want to be in for too long, Frank punched the hockey team’s center - and coincidentally one of the most popular kids in school - right in the corner of the jaw. He got suspended his first week of school and everyone had the same thought - a once in a lifetime opportunity for Ormond and it’s wasted on this sad son of a bitch? 

There were a few exceptions, sure, but none that were so surprising. Julie took a liking to Frank Morrison because she often did things her parents hated. Susie took a liking to Frank Morrison because she often did things Julie did. Joey took a liking to Frank Morrison because he often did things for the fuck of it. 

The exceptions ended there. The rest of Ormond High rolled their eyes and moved on, resigned to the fact that their New Kid Adventure began and ended with the blight of Frank Morrison. 

Then, roughly a year later, a second chance came along by way of Danny Johnson.

-

It would go one of two ways. 

The first one - and the most likely - was that Danny Johnson and Frank Morrison would not get along. The new kid would catch wind of the usual rumors, be warned straight out by whatever group sucked him in first, or he’d just interact with Frank once or twice to know better. 

The second and therefore least likely was that he’d be integrated nearly immediately into Frank’s posse. All at once he’d have to submit, conform, and abide by Frank. A few hard traits to come by in a person. It was a wonder he’d found three so far. 

The lunchroom was a hum as it normally was, only heightened with excitement and intrigue. A new kid? Who smiled politely? Who said hello and thank you and you’re welcome? With average looks and made people laugh? It was practically a fucking holiday. Everyone’s eyes were on the double doors on both sides of the room, waiting for him to enter. Who would get to him first? Who would he choose? Or would he prove to be a fucking freak and sit by himself for the rest of senior year? 

Only time would tell, so they all sat and waited - Julie included. While she had no interest in adding another body to the Legion, Frank knew she had a hard on for establishing her spot on the totem pole. It’s how they met in the first place. She wanted this new kid to know that he’ll only get invited to parties if she wanted him to, people would talk to him only if she hadn’t put a target on his back. She was a weird girl, in that sense. Julie didn’t want anyone new in their group, but she’d be damned if they didn’t know of her. 

Frank couldn’t give less of a fuck either way. 

“He’s a senior,” Susie told them without anyone asking. Out of the four, she was the biggest misfit. Not quite belonging there but not really fitting in elsewhere. She drifted because of that; hanging out with them mostly but having friends in other places. No one but Julie seemed to know her very well. “Ashley said he’s from Texas.” 

Julie scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her elbows were on either side of her shitty foam lunch tray, only empty because Joey was sitting on her left. “Ashley says everyone is from Texas. It’s the only state she knows.” 

“Well, he’s from the south,” Susie amended.

“No shit, everything is south from us.” 

Joey cackled at that, finally starting on his own food.

“South _US_ ,” Susie said, exasperation evident. She got riled up easily. It was one of the first things Frank remembered about her besides her hair color. 

“Farmer Dan,” Joey said vaguely, but with enough of a put-on voice to get a snort out of Frank.

“He in any of your classes?” Julie asked him needlessly. The school population was about seven, give or take, and out of that only about three of them were seniors. If Frank hadn’t come across him yet, he would eventually. 

He shrugged. “Who gives a shit?” 

She glared at him. “Literally everyone.” 

“Not me,” he countered.

“Not me,” Joey echoed. 

Ten minutes passed and Danny Johnson was absent for the whole of them. Twenty minutes into the lunch period and everyone guessed that his absence would persist. The hum simmered down, heads no longer turned to the doors. Julie remembered to cuss out Joey for touching her stuffed-crust. They moved on, for the time being. 

Then Frank got to World History and the buzz rose once more. 

“There’s a few empty seats - I don’t really keep a seating chart, but I know Ben sits next to Louann. Louann, raise your hand - yes, don’t sit there.” The teacher gestured around the room once before awkwardly adding on, “Anywhere else, though, it’s all yours.”

‘Anywhere else’ was three places. One open chair in the front of the room - literally the front row - next to Evan, who couldn’t see the whiteboard unless his nose was pressed into it. Only a heretic and a kiss ass would sit in the front of the room, so really there were only two places to choose from. Next to Frank and next to Devon Langburt. There was a reason these seats were open. For Frank’s case it was obvious, Devon because he wore the same grey zip-up hoodie every day and smelled like he slept in a dumpster.

Danny Johnson took the seat next to Frank. Susie would have had a field day. Julie would have caught the kid’s eyes to express how unimpressed she was with his choice. Joey would have made a face at him. Frank stared straight ahead and pretended he didn’t even notice the kid sit down. 

The teacher sets her coffee down and has someone hit the lights. On cue, people took out their notebooks as she fired up the projector, transparent sheets already on hand. Frank continued to stare straight ahead, even as the teacher started talking about whatever the fuck. He watched the glare on the whiteboard and how it moved across the wall every time the wind shifted the glass in the windows. 

Minutes passed and then he was getting nudged. He reacted fast, and if anyone asked he would have said it was because he was annoyed. He was caught off guard, truthfully. He’d put a lot of effort into looking unapproachable. All that meant shit, apparently, because here this asshole was, approaching him anyway. 

Frank was going to snap at him, sneer, tell him to piss off and never touch him again. But then he met the other’s eyes, and he got confused, because they were black. Like, almost all black. He couldn’t tell where the pupil started or if it was just _all_ pupil in general. Frank just whipped his head over, opened his mouth to say something, then did nothing at all. 

The kid tilted his head curiously, but he also smiled. “You got a pen?”

Frank looked down at the table where Danny’s notebook lay open on its first page. There was nothing written in it. Other kids had been taking notes for about five minutes already and he hadn’t copied down a word. 

He had to scoff at the question, though. Frank carried what could fit in the pockets of his varsity jacket and the space in that was reserved for his wallet, phone, and keys. Instead of telling the other that, he uncrossed his arms to lean forward just enough to be able to kick the chair in front of him. Devon startled so bad, Frank could hear the lead of his mechanical pencil snap. 

“New kid needs a pen,” he told him, jerking his head to Danny next to him. 

Devon reached for his bag, dug around in its front pocket, retrieved another mechanical pencil, and then handed it to Frank. 

Without another word, Frank passed it to Danny. 

It was silent besides the teacher for another minute or two and Frank couldn’t help but notice that his new tablemate wasn’t writing anything. The pencil lay next to the notebook, both of them equally unused. 

“It’s Danny, by the way.” Frank spared the soft voice a side glance but only so he could make a point of looking away without saying anything. Danny saw that and still added on, “So you don’t have to call me ‘New Kid’ like everyone else.” That time, Frank didn’t even look at him. It was quiet again but Danny didn’t let the silence last. “Just a heads up, this is where normal people exchange names - I went first, so by process of elimination…” He trailed off meaningfully. 

Frank waited before he responded, hoping he left the kid wondering if he was gonna answer at all. “Usually normal people can read a fucking room.” 

Danny laughed at that, the sound just low enough to where no one looked over. “I read the room and chose to disregard the information. What does that make me, if not a normal person?” 

Frank narrowed his eyes a little. What the fuck was this kid even talking about? Pretentious shit. “It makes you an asshole.” 

“Frank?” 

He looked up and met the eyes of the teacher. 

She blinked at him before politely asking, “Are we following along okay?” 

For a moment he continued to stare at her until deciding to lift one shoulder in a shrug. Neither of them mentioned he wasn’t taking notes; she went back to the projection. 

“So, Frank, is it?” Danny asked, evidently not one to let something go. 

“Do you wanna go by asshole, or do you wanna change your mind?” 

Again, Danny laughed at something Frank had hoped would have come off as a clue to quit fucking talking to him. “Danny’ll work fine for me.” 

Frank shrugged again. “Good for fuckin’ you.”

It became a trend, it turned out. In the coming days, Danny would ask him something or say something to him and Frank would only respond in order to express how much he wished Danny wouldn’t. He never got the hint, though, or he continued to ignore it. Now Frank had a ton of useless facts about a guy he didn’t want to know. 

Like how Danny wasn’t, in fact, from Texas like Ashley Whatsherface had said. He was from Florida, which was like Texas Two or something. 

He was left-handed, because he bumped elbows with Frank whenever he decided to write something down. It was weird, though, because once when there was a worksheet placed in front of them that they had to finish before class, Danny had done Frank’s for him. It was casual, and honestly it didn’t even seem like a favor. He finished his, put it to the side, then slid Frank’s over and filled out the same answers, but he did Frank’s exclusively with his right hand. 

He looked haggard as fuck; dark circles under his eyes and a weary crease between his brows. He never acted it, though. Always peppy, always pissed Frank off. 

He had a photographic memory or something, because when Frank got back the work Danny seemed to do out of boredom, the grades were perfect. Despite this, Frank had never seen him write any notes, even after that first day.

On top of it all, Danny was fucking boring. He wasn’t outwardly friendly, didn’t tell enough stories about the states to gather attention, didn’t have a weird quirk, dressed in neutral colors. He was not the exciting New Kid story Ormond High was looking for, but at least he wasn’t another Frank Morrison. His first week was without a fist fight, without a suspension, and without making enemies of the entire hockey team. He didn’t do much of anything, actually, and that irritated Frank. 

Because of the two things that were _supposed_ to happen, neither did. Danny and Frank didn’t _not_ get along. Danny also wasn’t immediately integrated into his original friend group, either. Outside of World History, they didn’t see each other and Frank hated that he thought about that. Hated that he wondered what the fuck Danny did all the time that made him look so fucking tired when he didn’t appear the type to have, like, _hobbies_. He wanted to know why Danny did his work for him sometimes and he wanted to know how he remembered everything without writing it down. He wanted to know why Danny talked to Frank even though it was obvious Frank didn’t want him to. 

All this and more, but Frank kept his fucking mouth shut. 

The rhythm shifted when he was leaving one of the first basketball practices of the season. It was starting to get colder, so the almost-dried sweat in his hair and along the line of his back was prominent. He’s got the hood to his varsity jacket pulled over his head and he’s focused on the zipper. He didn’t see Danny approach him, only noticed him because he was addressed.

“Frankie,” Danny called, and he managed to make it sound quiet in the echoing emptiness of the hallway. 

Frank stopped, looked at him, but didn’t say anything. The other paused in front of him and he tried to not let it show how pissed he was that Danny was taller. 

“Didn’t peg you as a jock,” Danny said knowingly. Frank hated the way he said shit, sometimes. 

“What are you doing here?” Frank asked. School ended three hours ago. The only people left were teachers, janitors, and the gym staff. 

Danny smiled his smile that was just for show. “Photography.” He gestured at the strap across his shoulder and Frank realized it wasn’t to an entire backpack. Just a small little case he could only imagine contained an expensive camera. “Dark room was empty, catching up on assignments I wasn’t here for.” 

It got weird. They weren’t really friends. Frank wouldn’t even call them acquaintances. Sometimes Danny talked at him in class. Sometimes, Frank didn’t blow him off and swear at him. He didn’t know where that put them so he didn’t really know how to move forward. 

Danny carried the conversation for him. He said, “Kinda glad I caught you, though,” and Frank had to scoff. 

“Fuck off,” he replied, bending down to grab the duffle he’d left slumped against the wall next to the gym doors. 

“You seem like the kind of guy who knows a gas station that sells booze to obvious teenagers,” Danny said anyway. He kept in stride with Frank as he started down the hallway. Frank pretended he didn’t intend for that to happen. 

“Fuck off,” he said again, but this time with more meaning. Then, for some reason, he asked, “You goin’ to a party or something?” This was surprising. As far as Frank knew, Danny had ignored invites to any and all parties in town - including Julie’s. That was a ballsy move. Julie took that kind of shit as a threat.

“No,” Danny said. “I just got done telling you I spent the last three hours in the dark room, I need a fucking break.” 

Frank had little to no idea what the hell someone would be doing in a dark room. He didn’t care enough to ask. “There’s one on the west side by that shitty thrift store on Grove. The dude there’s blasted, like, twenty-four seven.” 

Danny’s head turned and his black eyes caught Frank’s and wouldn’t let go. He smiled at him. “Wanna show me?”

-

“Are you eighteen?” 

“Next May,” Danny told him. “You?”

“No,” Frank answered, purposefully leaving out his own birth month. “They’re gonna card us if we go in together. It’s too obvious.” 

Danny seemed horribly amused at that. His brows went up and he pouted his lips. “Oh, are we _scared,_ Frankie?” 

He bared his teeth in a grin. “ _Fuck_ you, buddy. I’m the one who knew about this place.” 

“Means you’re a local,” Danny challenged. “Not a regular.” Before the other could make a retort, he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and retrieved his wallet. From that, he pulled out an ID and passed it to Frank. 

It was a Florida license for someone named Jed Olson. It had Danny’s picture, but barely any of the other listed information was accurate. 

Frank passed it back. “You really think they’re not gonna put two and two together?” New kids practically made local news as it was. Everyone in town heard about the kid from Florida. Surely the sight of the ID would knock something loose in this poor cashier’s unused brain. 

“Small town woes.” Then, “Bet he doesn’t say shit.” 

As someone who knew what it was like to own a big reputation, Frank said, “Bet he fuckin’ does.” 

Once again, Danny’s dark eyes were on him. “What are we betting on?” 

That caught him by surprise so he didn’t answer, just rolled his eyes. That wasn’t good enough for Danny.

“When I get out of there, you have to have a drink with me.” 

The words sank in. Frank felt himself frown in aggravation. His phone felt heavy in his pocket all of a sudden and for the life of him he couldn’t remember why. “If you take more than five minutes, I’m out of here. Not about to wait for the cops.” 

Danny’s head tilted and he smiled. The action seemed like it should’ve drawn blood. “Not coming in?” 

“Yeah, lemme just go buy a forty with my fucking high school varsity jacket on.” 

The other shrugged. “Don’t complain about what I get, then.” 

He sauntered off in the direction of the shitty little corner store’s doors. It really was a shady looking place. Windows covered in posters for cigarettes that weren’t even in production anymore, outdated lottery numbers, graffiti scratched into the concrete walls. The ice cooler out front hung open, handles broken off and filled with melted snow and rain water. Danny walked in like he was familiar with it all. 

The door shut with an echo of the bell and a rubbery hiss; that’s when Frank realized his heart was beating against his ribcage. Instinctively, he looked up and down the street, but no one was there. No one saw them. And it wasn’t nervousness, he understood that the second he addressed his pulse. It was like the same feeling he got after running too many suicides, pushing too hard for too long during drills. It felt like his blood was burning hot underneath his skin.

Frank was excited. He watched the doors in what must have been anticipation. 

It took three minutes. Danny reappeared with a twelve pack in a plastic bag and that same self-assured smile on his face. When he was close enough, he passed the bag to Frank. 

“Here, put this in your body bag. Don’t wanna push our luck.” 

Frank scowled and dropped his duffle off his shoulder. That was fair. “You’re carrying it.” 

Danny didn’t try to argue with him, but when he took the bag after Frank zipped up their beer, he cooed out, “Should I drape my jacket over your chilly shoulders, my dear? Huh? Sweetheart? Or will holding your things suffice?” 

He started walking, not waiting to see if the taller would follow. “Does everyone from the US talk like a piece of shit?” 

“Oh, definitely.” Danny followed.

“Maybe you should shut the fuck up, then,” Frank said. “I’m kind of sick of hearing it.” 

“Where’s your place?” 

For a moment, all Frank could do was furrow his brows at him, because what the fuck? Danny regarded him with a confused expression, as well, but his seemed more like a joke. 

“I was promised a drink,” he explained a little too happily.

“And we have to do that at my place?”

“You’re right, we could just get plastered out on the streets,” Danny replied conversationally. “What a thrill - then we can spend a night in jail, convicted on a count of public intoxication but really get nailed for the littering, because that would sting more - “

“You’re not coming over my house.” Frank didn’t know if Clive was home. His foster dad was either coasting from bar to bar or he was slumped in front of the shitty little dining room TV he’d set on the table. Frank didn’t feel like explaining what he was doing home so early and why he came in with someone else. He also didn’t feel like sharing with Clive, which he felt like he might have to if the man saw what they’d brought home. 

He _also_ didn’t feel like letting Danny see the rundown shack of a house he lived in. Frank didn’t feel like exploring why that was - not then, at least. 

“We can go up to the old lodge,” he suggested. 

Danny shrugged, smiling. “Lead the way.” 

-

Danny’s beer choice was cheap, but in reality, what seventeen year old had the money for top shelf shit? It tasted like piss, it smelled like piss, and it looked like piss. But it got the job done. Frank could hardly feel the wind chill that slipped through the shattered glass windows anymore. 

Danny still could, if the way he was huddled in the corner of one of the old couches was anything to go by. He didn’t mention it, though, just shivered every so often in between his words. 

“You’ve got weird fuckin’ eyes,” Frank heard himself say at some point. He’d been listening to what the other had been talking about, kind of, but he’d gotten distracted by those all-pupil irises. When he’d been shown the fake ID, it said Jed Olson had brown eyes. Frank was still trying to see them on Danny.

“Thanks,” Danny replied in stride, not being taken by surprise. “Got them from my mom.” 

Frank laughed. He lowered his voice to mockingly growl out, “Got them from her when you _ripped them from her skull?”_

“No,” Danny said dully. And then, disturbingly enough, added on with, “I wish. She’s the reason I’m in this hick town.”

Frank made a humming noise, obviously feigning compassion. “Mommy wanted to try something new?” He asked flatly. 

“Yeah, she wanted to try living her life without her son.” Danny said it calmly, but there was that hint of something that laid underneath. Frank could see it in his smile, sometimes, too. “Her and dad agreed little Danny was acting out too much, so they shipped me off to bumfuck Ormond to live with Great Aunt Mary.” 

In order not to immediately laugh, Frank focused on the peeling label of his bottle. It was hard to imagine boring fucking Danny Johnson acting out. “Shit’s rough, man.” 

“Fuck them,” Danny announced. He leaned forward and grabbed another beer, cracking the top off using the window sill right above his shoulder, then relaxed back into the couch. “Practically live by myself, anyway. My great aunt’s ninety years old and doesn’t leave her room.”

“Why the fuck didn’t we go there, then?”

“Like I was gonna invite a stranger over to my house where all the fine china is kept.” 

“And _I_ was supposed to?”

Danny seemed overjoyed to say, “Well, I mean, you certainly lead a stranger up to an old, secluded lodge on a mountain.” He leaned forward again, but this time he moved passed the quarter-full box of beer and closer to Frank. Their knees nearly brushed but Frank didn’t back down. He stared Danny down out from underneath his hood and hoped it wasn’t apparent that he was holding his breath. “You gonna kill me out here, Frankie? It’s a good place to do it.” 

As nonchalantly as he could manage without breaking eye contact, Frank took a drink from his beer. “I don’t think you’re worth the effort, D.” 

It was quiet. He didn’t know if Danny took it as a joke or not. After a minute, he sucked in a breath through his nose and sat back. One of his dark brows was raised. It was a little odd. Danny’s features were very expressive when he chose to use them. He rarely did. 

“I don’t believe you,” he said simply. He took another pull of his drink and let it rest on his knee. “I’m gonna hazard a guess and say that I’m probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to you since you moved here.” 

Frank snorted. “Your guessing game’s not that strong.”

“I think you’ll find,” Danny said slowly, “that I’m very good at surprises.” 

-

Frank got home that night far too late for his own good, and far too drunk to be quiet. Luckily, Clive was too drunk for his own good as well. When Frank stumbled through the front door, the man barely even stirred in his recliner. 

He made it into the hall in the dark after slamming into only two corners and swearing both. Leaving his duffel in the hall by his room, Frank practically fell into the bathroom. He knew that he’d pass out the second he got to bed and he wouldn’t wake up in time for a shower. He desperately needed one. Basketball practice and hiking up _and_ down a mountain left him a little more than disheveled. He was sweaty and sore and a hot shower would help that. 

Now he remembered why he hardly went up to the lodge without Joey to drive them. 

At the thought, Frank paused in his slow and fumbling undressing. Thinking of Joey reminded him of Julie, in turn, and Susie. Being reminded of them made him remember his phone. He let his jeans fall to the floor and he stepped out of them to pick his jacket back up, fishing through it until he found his phone. Two missed texts, both from Julie. 

The first one was short; three question marks and nothing else. It came in about twenty minutes after he was supposed to meet them outside of the grocery store Joey worked at. He tried to think of what he’d been doing then, how drunk he was at that point, what he and Danny had been talking about. 

The last text came another twenty minutes after the first. _Fine don’t show. Prick._

Frank locked his phone without responding. It was late, she’d probably be in bed anyway. Not that he had anything to say. He wasn’t their dad. Frank didn’t owe them shit. He said that to himself just in case he felt guilty over skipping out on them. 

He set his phone on the counter by the sink and caught sight of his reflection from the corner of his eyes. Quite literally, Frank looked about as good as he felt. A little too red in the face from the booze and the cold. His hair, dark brown at the roots and a faded silver from his last dye everywhere else, was slick looking with dried sweat. There were smudges under his eyes, dull and glassy, but nowhere near as haggard-looking as Danny’s. 

Frank looked away and pulled open the shower curtain, stepping inside without even turning the water on and waiting for it to heat up. The cold spray hit him and his breathing quickened, only for a second. 

He could hear his heartbeat. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so some warnings for this chapter - mentions of murder, FANTASIZING about murder while character is choking someone to the point where they almost pass out, and like idk mildly sexual content?? i'm iffy about that shit, like i don't even expressly mention the bits, yknow? so it's THERE. but it's not a lot
> 
> i think that's it. if i missed smth i'm terribly sorry. let me know, and a preemptive apology if it weirds you out
> 
> quick update bcuz i had this written already, things might not come out this fast down the line (if you even wanna keep reading after this sad, sad excuse of a part lmao)

“You look like shit,” Joey said to him the next day at lunch. He was on Frank’s left and Julie was on his right, having learned her lesson after getting her lunch stolen enough times. 

“What else is new?” Julie asked, voice cold. She wasn’t making it a secret that she was pissed. She didn’t like being someone’s second choice despite how she hardly made herself available enough to be someone’s first. A contradictory and weird girl. 

Across from them, Susie asked, “Long night?” 

“Yeah, where’d you go? I thought practice ended at six.”

Frank could tell that Joey wasn’t genuinely upset about his disappearance like Julie was. He was the most laid back out of them all. Frank was too confrontational, Julie was too conceited, and Susie cared too much about what Julie thought. Joey was the perfect blend of all three, and the production was someone who might have been too confident with himself to worry about things like people not wanting to hang out with him. 

“It did,” Frank said curtly. Then, after a mildly taken aback look on Joey’s face, added on, “I got held up.” 

“You could’ve at least texted me back,” Julie told him, tone more neutral. 

To that, Frank said out loud what he thought last night. “I’m not your fucking dad, Jules. You’re allowed to go out and play without supervision.” 

Joey laughed and Julie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a fucking prick. Where did you even go?” 

“Nowhere,” Frank lied. Even to his own ears it sounded smooth and truthful. “Haven’t been getting enough sleep, I went home and passed out.” 

“Didn't seem to do you much good,” she remarked. “Joey was right when he said you looked like shit.” 

Frank huffed something in between a scoff and a laugh. “Dumbshits wonder why I don’t wanna hang out with you.” 

-

When he got into World History, Danny didn’t comment on how tired he looked. They sat in their usual semi-quiet as the teacher rattled off more dates and facts and names. Danny finished his worksheet, then finished Frank’s. They left class separately without mentioning the night before, but when Frank was heading out after practice later, Danny was there again. 

Meeting after school and drinking in the abandoned lodge became a trend as well. Frank told himself that it was because he’d be dead in a ditch somewhere before he turned down free booze.

Then, after a while, most of the time, they passed up the gas station all together. Sometimes, they didn’t even get to the lodge. _Sometimes_ , when Frank knew Clive had gotten his Family Service check and would be out of the house for at least a day, he swept up empty cans littering his house into a garbage bag. He’d lead Danny there instead, and Danny was nice enough to not mention how adamant Frank had been before about not bringing Danny to his house. They’d watch shitty scary movies - per Danny’s request - and talk over them much like they did in World History. 

Sometimes, Danny wouldn’t go home. Frank would wake up on his own shitty couch with a pain in his neck and the other boy across from him. 

Sometimes, Frank pretended he didn’t think about how he didn’t even let the Legion in his house let alone sleep there. 

After a while, Julie stopped texting him when he missed on plans. He made up for it by showing up at Julie’s when her parents went on their date nights and the other two were around. Other times he would catch a ride with Joey up to the lodge and tag more of the empty walls, acted like he had no idea where the fresh bottles of booze came from when Joey saw them.

But then it was Danny, and beer, and slashers, and sitting too close enough to each other that they were unable to use the small couch as an excuse. 

Frank didn’t really know when that started. Maybe Danny had noticed him staring at his eyes for too long. Maybe it was after Frank had noticed those same eyes trailing up the line of his legs more often than they should. Who knew. Frank didn’t say shit about it.

“She got what she deserved,” Danny said mildly. On screen, a young woman’s head was impaled on the killer’s machete. The camera lingered on the face where her eyes rolled up, blood spilling down along the lines of her features. “Why hide _right there_ when you had so much distance on him?” 

“Because she’s a fucking idiot.”

“So’s the killer.” Danny watched on for one more minute then barked out a laugh when the man the killer was chasing baited him into an open door, then cracked it against his shoulder and sent him toppling down a flight of stairs. “Look at this fucking guy.” 

Danny shifted beside him and when he settled back down his knee pressed into Frank’s.

“It’s realistic,” Frank said without really believing it. He just liked when Danny got animated. “You think you wouldn’t get your ass kicked chasing after someone? People fight for their life, they get ruthless, man.” 

“Oh?” He bounced his leg and jostled Frank’s in the process. “You're well versed in murderous chases, then?”

Frank tore his eyes away from the movie and looked at Danny as if he were a fucking idiot, too. “You aren’t?”

Danny laughed again; short, but more like the laugh from the first day they met. A low sound, misleading. On the same level of a noise you’d hear in the middle of the night that warns you to to lock the doors and windows. Frank found himself leaning forward. 

“I like you, Franky,” Danny said, letting him. Not backing down. “You’re not like the rest of the boring fucks in this town.” 

“You wouldn’t know. You don’t talk to anyone.” At some point, Danny turned toward him. They’re not even looking at the TV anymore. All Frank can hear is screaming and the thrumming of his own heart. “Freak.” 

A hand caught Frank by the neck and he didn’t flinch. He kept his eyes on Danny even when a thumb pressed hard under his jaw, right on a vein where his blood crashed against the fingertip. 

Danny took in a deep, quiet breath. His tongue darted across his bottom lip and he said, “You have no idea what I know, sweetheart.” 

He grabbed the front of Danny’s stupid plain t-shirt and pulled him forward, biting down on the lip for himself. Danny refused to play a passive role. He was quick to move up to his knees and pressed Frank’s shoulders back into the arm of the couch. He could feel the tip of the other’s tongue drag across the line of his teeth and he groaned. 

Frank wasn’t an amateur when it came to making out with someone. While people tried to stay away from him on school grounds - which was fair - anything goes under a black light and a drug-fogged state of mind. Hell, even him and Julie fucked around a few times when they were bored enough. It was something someone did to relax; unwind. Do something that didn't involve taking yourself too seriously. 

Something about this, though, with him and Danny, it wasn’t those other times. It was sloppy, and wasn’t for fun. It felt desperate. It felt like another trial between them. Like they were gonna win something against the other if they got the upperhand.

The hand still on Frank’s neck firmly nudged, forcing his head to tilt and allowing Danny to deepen the kiss, effectively locking him in. Not that Frank was planning on running anywhere. He lifted himself up enough to press Danny back a little, taking back some control, fitting his fingers along the grooves of the other’s ribs. 

“You’re such a fuck,” Frank swore when Danny retreated just enough to trail kisses along the column of his throat. It wasn’t tender. Teeth scraped jagged lines against his skin. In retaliation, Frank found the short hair at the back of Danny’s head, weaved his fingers into it, and pulled. 

Danny drew in a sharp breath and let it out against Frank’s neck in a laugh. 

“Piece of shit fuck,” Frank reiterated, using the grip on the other’s hair as leverage to pull him back up, to get his mouth on him. To stop him from biting marks the others would want an explanation for. 

They stay on the couch and Frank got a leg in between Danny’s. They stay on the couch after, Danny slumped over him until they wake up. He left, and they don’t talk about it. In class the following Monday, Danny didn’t mention it at all and neither did Frank. 

But they do it again. Danny’d trap him on the couch during another awful movie - always slashers - or Frank would corner him at the lodge or on the street when no one else was around. They’d fuck around, kiss each other bloody, and stay silent afterward. Frank could almost believe it all happened in his head, but then Danny would do something damning, like rest his knee against Frank’s under their desk in World History. 

-

The first time Danny took Frank to his house, he made sure Frank was wasted. 

They started at the lodge; Clive had planted his ass at home and Frank was still adverse to him and Danny meeting. Actually, if he thought about it - which he rarely did - he realized that unconsciously, he’d been hiding Danny from everyone. Outside of class, they don’t see each other in school until the final bell rings and Frank’s either bailing on practice or just leaving it. When Julie and the rest caught up with him, Frank continued to lie. He was tired after practice, he got held up, Clive had him running some bullshit over to his buddy’s house. He definitely wasn’t hanging out with boring ass Danny fucking Johnson. Not a chance.’

Hidden and without anyone knowing, Frank and Danny headed toward the rich side of town.

Great Aunt Mary lived well after retirement. Her house was on a hill, one of the oldest in town. A full porch, white picket fence, the mandatory tree planted right in the corner of the yard. All the lights in the house were off, all the windows on the front of the house dark. Frank wasn’t sure what time it was exactly, but he knew it couldn’t be passed seven. Surely even people who were old as fuck didn’t go to bed that early. 

“I thought you said your aunt doesn’t leave the house,” Frank said. He kicked the gate shut to spite it, relishing in the stark shoe print on its white finish. 

“Great aunt,” Danny corrected. He continued up the walkway toward the three steps leading to the front door. He opened the door without unlocking it and didn’t answer Frank’s not-question. 

The inside is about what he expected. Cozy sitting room, an expensive looking couch in front of a too big TV. A fucking island in the kitchen with those fancy marble tops. Pots hanging from one of those light fixtures. 

Danny passed the entryway to the kitchen, but Frank stopped to look - because there was a cutting board left on the counter. It looked like green onions or something had been scattered over its surface, dried out and forgotten. He couldn’t tell for sure due to the darkness, but if he focused his drunken vision, he thought he could make out a pot left on the stove. Whatever was inside it had obviously gone cold, grease congealed on the top. 

They moved throughout the house quietly. Danny didn’t turn on any of the lights and Frank didn’t ask him to. The deeper they went, the more prominent the beating in his chest got. He felt like he needed to keep looking over his shoulder. He felt like he was waking up to the feeling of someone watching him.

In the hallway between the living room and a coat closet there’s a small liquor cabinet and that’s where Danny stopped them. Frank lost the time between it being opened and being handed a bottle of something. The pause his brain sat through was frustrating. Like he was trying to recall something. He didn’t wait for a shot glass, just took a swig and passed it to Danny. He’s already fucked enough that he didn’t feel a burn. 

He watched Danny take a drink of his own, followed the way his throat worked in a swallow. They stared at each other and it was quiet. 

Then Frank asked, “Where’s your aunt, D?”

A smile spread across Danny’s features, normal shifting to abnormal. Different but alive. Frank always thought the other boy wore his face like camouflage. He wondered if this is what was real or if he was missing something else. 

“Great aunt,” Danny corrected again. “Can I show you something?” 

He’s brought even further into the house, all the way to the other side where Danny led him out the backdoor. There’s a patio out there and a spacious backyard that only broke because of the forest’s treeline. No fences. 

Their footsteps crunch in the half-dead grass. Summer always seemed to bleed right into winter in Ormond. Everything was either covered in frost or snow this time of year. Danny burrowed deeper into his coat. Frank shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets and followed close behind. 

They pass into the trees, ducking underneath gnarled branches. Their breath puffed in front of them and there’s no sound of crickets to dampen the cracks of twigs beneath their steps. 

Not five minutes - maybe not even three - Danny stopped them again. He did so without a word or explanation, his black eyes locked onto the ground just in front of him. Frank paused on his right, saw where he'd been looking, then followed the gaze down as well. For a moment, he didn’t know what he was supposed to be seeing or what he was supposed to be looking for. His breathing was coming in too fast - even though Danny kept his pace slow and the trek into the woods wasn’t a taxing one - and it was making his head feel heavy. Hard to focus. 

But then it’s there, suddenly obvious; the dirt recently upturned. Long, too. Maybe a little over five feet in length. 

Frank took it all in. He shivered. It really was fucking cold. 

“Are you fucking with me?” He asked, finally breaking the silence and glancing over at Danny. 

The other was already watching him. “Always, Frankie. Every second.”

He looked back to the dirt - to the grave. “What, she just keel over while making dinner? Why didn’t you call the fucking cops?” He knew why, but he wanted it confirmed. 

Danny did so by tilting his head. “Why would I have done that?” 

His heart was thudding. He didn’t even blink. There was something so weird, so unnatural about the knowledge that a woman was alive and now if he dug a few feet, she’d be there. Dead. Cold and rotting with dirt in her lungs. Stiff. Something that used to move unconsciously but wouldn't anymore. 

The second thought he had was that Danny was still watching him. Expectantly. He was waiting for something and Frank didn’t know what to give him. He was too drunk for a reaction, too numb, too cold. Distantly, a small part of himself wanted to scoff at the other's ego. Did he want to relish in Frank’s shock? Want to watch him scream or deny it or run? Cry?

Frank couldn’t give him that. He - honestly. Fuck. Honestly, Frank - disgustingly, revoltingly, horrendously enough - wanted to laugh. He’d blame the booze later or maybe the hysteria, but now that minutes had passed and the only thing left to do was process the information, Frank thought, _that’s it?_

The weirdo Frank had been fucking around with for the better part of the first semester just revealed himself as some psychopath, and all he had to show for it was an old fucking woman buried in her own backyard? That was _it?_

He made a noise, halfway to a grunt of acknowledgement, and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. It was starting to run from the temperature. He really didn’t want to be outside, anymore. 

“Alright,” he said, and maybe sober he would have been proud of how even his voice came out. Just then, it felt natural. “Wanna watch a movie or something?” 

There was a beat where Danny didn’t do anything at all. He smiled again after a while, but this time it was smaller. Frank got the feeling he didn’t know he was doing it. “Only if I get to pick,” he replied.

-

Later, when Danny was draped over him on the couch and the only thing he can smell is a dead woman’s rotting meal, Frank lay awake. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered how Danny had done it.

-

Joey picked Frank up on the following Saturday. He’d caught him walking home, head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. The car’d pulled up beside him and Frank was slow to look over, mentally prepared to defend himself against one of Danny’s snob-ass rich neighbors. The window was rolled down, and he’d been surprised to see his friend in the driver’s seat.

Joey’s expression mirrored that feeling. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” He asked through a smile. 

Frank shrugged, reaching for the passenger door without asking or Joey telling him to. It was unlocked either way. He climbed in and Joey continued down the street before he even shut it behind him. 

“Where’ve you been, man?” He’s being asked. 

Gently, he rested his head against the window. There wasn’t much to see as it was layered in fog. Truthfully, he didn’t know how Joey could see anything, because the windshield was much the same. After a moment it registered that he’d been asked a question and he didn’t know how to answer it. He could lie, like always, and say Julie’s place but that could be fact checked. After all, Joey probably saw her more than Frank did these days. Fuck, _he_ might have been over Julie’s last night. 

He could tell the truth. Frank could admit to sleeping over Danny Johnson’s house, watching movies, getting him off, standing a temporary vigil over a woman’s grave. A woman Danny Johnson killed. Apparently. So he said. 

“I was going home,” he decided on, purposefully vague. 

Joey let it slide, and that’s why he was Frank’s favorite. “You still heading there?” 

Frank eyed him and Joey did the same for as long as he could without leaving his attention off the road for an unacceptable amount of time. Joey’s eyes were brown, like whiskey, and Frank could see the irises and where the pupils ended. He was excited, Frank could tell, eager. He wondered if the younger boy was just easy to read or if he’d spent too long looking at Danny. 

“Nah, man,” Frank said. “Not anymore.” 

Joey’s grin was brilliant. “Hell yeah.” 

-

They left Joey’s car four blocks down the street, walking the rest of the way to the little family-owned athletic store downtown. From there, they waited across the street a few stores down; far enough away that they can see the entrance but not close enough to be considered loitering. Joey’s leaning against the concrete wall, watching the doors. Frank’s further into the break in between buildings and not paying as much attention as he probably should. Too focused on scratching bold lines into the wall with the pocket knife he’d stolen from the confiscated shit out of the principal’s office. 

It’d been ten minutes of waiting, twenty minutes of sighing in pointed irritation. Joey ignored him for the most part. Then, finally, he hissed, “There he is.” 

Frank looked around Joey’s shoulder. He recognized the kid from basketball but he could be fucked if he remembered his name. After Coach Raxter made it a point to discuss teamwork and go on about how _your team is your second family,_ Frank made it a point to distance himself as far from the other guys as possible.

From inside his pocket, Joey retrieved a bandana he’s quick to tie around his face, adjusting it until his eyes peek through. Frank flicked the pocket knife, snapping it shut, and put it away. His own mask waited for him inside the lining of his jacket. It’s thin but made of hard-enough plastic that it hadn’t bent or cracked yet. It’d been through a lot. Where it used to be white, it was grey. Where it used to be plain, it was covered in pen and sharpie marks. 

He put it on, pulled his hood back up, and watched Joey press up against the wall opposite of him. A few seconds of silence where Frank kept his head angled away, just in case another person walked by and caught sight of them, then Joey was saying, “He’s crossing,” and then a body was thrown into the alley.

“What the _fuck_ ,” the body swore, stumbling and just barely keeping on its feet. “What the fuck are you - “

Joey shut the kid up by hitting him hard, catching him in the nose and sending him flying onto his back. As he advanced, the kid threw out a kick, catching Joey by surprise and toppling him over as well. Before he could capitalize, climb on top of his attacker, Frank moved forward himself. 

He caught the kid by the leg by stepping down on his ankle, putting most of his weight onto it. It made the kid scream, so Frank backhanded him, knuckles bouncing off his temple. He’s flipping the kid around by his shoulders and in his peripherals he could make out Joey pulling himself to his feet. 

Frank didn’t stop, though. He got the kid onto his back and because he was still dazed, he could press his knees on either side of the kid, down into his biceps, effectively pinning him. The kid went to yell again, Frank saw him open his mouth, heard him breathe in. With his arms trapped, he couldn’t stop Frank from wrapping his hand around his throat, or stop the hand that rested on top of the first. Couldn't stop him from pressing forward, cutting off his screamed swear, his shout for help, his breathing entirely. 

Eventually, the kid’s struggling weakened. His hips stopped lifting in its attempts to buck him off. His arms stopped wriggling underneath his knees. Frank let them go, but there was no strength left in them. The kid tried pawing at his wrists, nails digging in, but if there was pain, Frank didn’t feel it. He was watching the red bleed into the kid’s cheeks, his neck. The only sound in his ears was the dry clicking coming from the kid’s mouth, tongue thrashing wildly as it tried to shape around words. 

Desperate tears began streaking down the creases of the kid’s face. There was so much white in his eyes. They were looking right up at him. Frank couldn’t help but think that this was an intimate way to kill someone. Being the last thing this kid ever saw. Heedlessly, Frank's mind drew up Danny. He wondered if this was how Danny’s great aunt ended up in her grave. Had he held her down, just like this? Pressed down on her windpipe until her throat croaked like Kevin’s beneath him? 

Kevin. That’s what the kid’s name was. _Kevin._

Frank stood suddenly. He didn’t know what made him lurch up the way he did. Maybe he’d realized what he’d been doing. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to stop. Kevin convulsed, chest heaving as he sobbed. Frank watched him. Breathed. 

Joey leaned down, grabbed Kevin by the hair on the top of his head, and lifted so his face was level with Joey’s. “Remember this, Brideler.” He forced his voice into a lower register and Frank would have been amused if his heart wasn’t thundering. Kevin Brideler. Point guard. “If you don’t, you’re fucking dead.” 

He let Kevin Brideler’s head drop again and he stood to his full height. Not a second passed between that and him nudging Frank forward, deeper into the alley where it connected to the street over. Frank almost forgot to follow him. His ears were ringing with the sound of Kevin’s coughing, wheezing, crying. 

They’re back out in the open and their masks were taken off; Frank left his hood on. His eyes suddenly felt sensitive in the meek sunlight. 

Joey lead him back to the car and he didn’t say a word until they’re closed inside of it. He stuck the key in the ignition and turned the engine. They’re going just a little over the speed limit - enough to get out of there but not so fast that they don’t get pulled over. 

Finally, Joey said, “That was fucking crazy, man.” 

Frank shrugged. His fingers were clenched into fists and he didn’t know how to relax them, so he crossed his arms. “You said you didn’t want him to fuck with you anymore.”

“I know,” and because it was Joey, there wasn’t the hint of a _but_ at the end. Just a quiet, “For a second I didn’t think you were gonna stop.” 

-

Joey dropped him off at the bus stop. From there, he walked to his house two streets over. 

He kicked the door closed, ignored Clive’s agitated scolding, and went into his room. He got his shoes off and that’s it, fell into his bed and remained there, face down. 

Fingers clenched in his blanket.

-

Kevin Brideler did not go to school on Monday. Tuesday, though, he made his return, neck a mottled mess of bruises. Rumors flew around, as they did in Ormond High. Ashley Whatsherface said his parents had throttled him because he scratched their brand new Lexus. His girlfriend, Charlie, covered for him and said that the marks were from her, that she got carried away the night before, but don’t worry - he liked it. During practice, Frank heard his buddies saying that he got into a bar fight, fended off a bouncer and another guy. Truly and honestly, you should see _them._

Joey had given him a knowing look when they heard one of the marks’ origin stories at lunch. It seemed like only him, Frank, and Kevin himself knew the truth. 

Then Danny met him after practice. The hallways were empty so he was free to put a hand at the small of Frank’s back, to lean close and nose into the dye-faded hair at his temple. It would have looked sweet, affectionate, even. It shocked even Frank at first; what they’d done so far wasn’t at all compassionate. They weren’t tender with each other. 

So he was frozen; completely still for Danny to whisper, “If you’d killed that fuck without me, there would’ve been hell to pay, Frankie.” 

Frank drew in a sharp breath and shoved Danny away from him. The taller didn’t appear too surprised by the rough treatment; he let himself fall back into the lockers and stared down at Frank, expressionless. Head tilted. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frank bit out. 

Danny snorted. “Please, I’m not fucking stupid.”

Frank clenched his teeth so hard he swore he heard them creak. Danny continued to watch him like it was terribly amusing. 

“Who the fuck told you?” This is what troubled him the most. Because as far as he knew, fucking _no one_ knew Danny Johnson. No one talked to him and he didn’t talk to anyone but Frank. Joey wouldn’t have said shit, either, and it wasn’t fucking Kevin. He was a shit starter, but he wasn't a snitch.

“Oh, Frankie,” Danny cooed. He seemed to be having fun. 

Frank took a step away from him. “You’re fucking following me now, freak?” 

Danny recovered the distance Frank put between them. He pushed off the lockers and rushed forward, stopping just in front of the shorter. It put them nose to nose, because Frank didn’t back down. He did hold his breath, though.

“No shit, I’m following you. You’re the only one who knows about the new hole in my backyard - you thought I wasn’t going to keep tabs on you?” He got even closer, but Frank still refused to move so it forced their chests together. Danny got a hand on his neck, thumb over the pulse, and his eyes didn’t blink. “You thought I was just going to let you waltz into town, right to the cops? Do think I’m a fucking moron, Frankie?” 

“I didn’t, though, did I?” Frank made it come out accusatory. He was a little pissed - at Danny for thinking he’d rat him out, for not trusting him even though he’d given him very little reason to. And at himself, for the thought of going to the cops to turn in a fucking murderer never crossing his mind. 

“No,” Danny agreed, and he was smiling again. “No you didn’t.” 

His palm suddenly flattened onto Frank’s lower stomach, right over his pocket where Danny would be able to feel the outline of the pocket knife still tucked away. Frank felt it, too, pressing into his abdomen. 

“You carry this on school grounds? Not scared of getting caught, sweetheart?” Danny’s tone shifted like a wildfire, Frank noticed. In probably two minutes, he’d gone from sultry, to mocking, to growling, back to flirting. “You know how to use this thing, Frank?” 

Frank shoved him again and kept up the pressure, walked him back into the lockers and slammed him against them. “Sure I fuckin’ can, D. Want me to show you? Wanna see what I can fucking to with it?” 

Danny’s hips jerked forward, abruptly but on purpose, grinding into Frank’s. Either not understanding a threat when under one or just enjoying the prospect too much. “Fuck yeah, baby,” he breathed. “Fuck yes, I do.” 

All too aware that they were still technically in public, Frank grabbed Danny on either side of his face and pulled him down, smashing their mouths together. He made sure to bite down any chance he got, getting more firm every time Danny groaned because of it. The hand over his pulse moved across to rub at his nape, the other abandoning the pocket knife to grip Frank’s hipbone. 

“You should’ve seen yourself,” Danny said without moving too far away. Frank felt his lips move against his own. “Thought your little friend was gonna shit himself.” 

Frank growled and shoved a leg in between Danny’s, hiking the taller’s shoulders up higher against the lockers. “Don’t fucking talk about him right now.” 

Danny snickered. “Alright, Frankie, let’s talk about you - would you like that?” He’s panting, now, rutting forward against the offered thigh. “You want me to tell you how good you looked, sitting on that dumbass’ chest, choking the fucking life out of him? _Shit_ , Frank - “ He gasped, the grip on Frank’s hip tightening like a vice and pulling him forward. Frank hissed through his teeth to avoid making a noise himself. “You were made for it, I swear to fuck. Did you like it? Baby? Did you _like_ it? What were you thinking about, when you were killing him?” 

_“ You,”_ Frank said before he thought about it, right into the crook of Danny’s neck, breath hot enough it made the other shiver.

“Me? What about me?” Danny goaded, evidently thrilled at the notion. “You want me dead, Frank? You wanna crush my - “ 

“I thought about your fucking aunt,” Frank snapped, cutting him off. He figured he should feel sick about this - admitting it and feeling it. “I thought about - if you killed her like that.”

Danny stopped moving, so still compared to how he’d been writhing against him before. The abrupt pause jolted Frank back to reality, reminding him where the fuck they were. He looked down either sides of the hallway, quick to take an excuse to not look Danny in the eyes. Still empty. All the lights in the classrooms were shut off. Just them.

Danny used the grip on his neck to nudge his chin upward, forcing him to look. And that's all they did for what seemed like ages; Frank trying to control his breathing and Danny just watching. "I stabbed her," he said after another good while. Casually, too. Conversationally. "I stabbed her here.” He lowered his hand to Frank’s collar bone, underneath the shirt, running along skin. “And here.” The hand on his hip moved back up to his stomach, but higher than where his pocket knife sat. It rubbed right underneath his ribcage, then pressed in hard to the point where it almost hurt. “And here, again.” 

“Fuck,” Frank said breathlessly. Then, because he had to know, “Why?” 

“You know why,” Danny said softly. “You feel it, too, I know you do.” 

Frank let his eyes fall closed, mouthing out a curse as he let his head fall forward. He wasn’t sure if he felt disappointed in that answer. He wanted to feel something, at least. He wanted to feel something and know he was feeling it. 

Fingers swept through his hair and he didn’t immediately react to it, so it continued.

“I knew you were different,” Danny’s cooing into his ear. “You’re the only one in this fucking town that I didn’t see coming.” Frank still didn’t say anything. Whether it was because this irritated Danny or he was just generally excited, Frank didn’t know, but his silence forced the touch in his hair to get firmer. “Say it,” he demanded suddenly. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck off, D,” he mumbled. He refused to pull his face out of Danny’s shoulder. 

_“Say it."_

“I wanted to kill him.” He was still mumbling, and his words were muffled into the other’s hoodie. For a moment, he couldn’t be sure he’d said anything at all. Maybe this was all in his head. “I wanted to kill him and I don’t know why.” 

Danny heard him, though, because he laughed at Frank’s confession. It was an odd sound; somehow both mocking and fond. Danny was a weird kid. “You already know why,” he told him. “You just said it, Frankie. You _wanted_ to.” 

And for a fleeting moment, the simplicity was all he needed. The cold that’d been creeping in on his thoughts dissipated the very moment Danny had spoken the words. 

Frank had just wanted to. That was it. That was easy. 

He just wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> danny: i murdered my great aunt for no good reason and i'm alarmingly proud of it  
> frank: ok? freak? can u suck my dick while we watch friday the 13th now?  
> danny: yeah
> 
> -
> 
> HEY. thanks for reading :^)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rlly rlly wanted to wait a little longer to post this after i wrote a little bit more bcuz this is the last of the backlog. last time i posted was bcuz i got excited so like there was two days in between chapters. i held out a little longer but i'm just not strong enough captain
> 
> anywho some warnings for this one: moida. they finally kill someone lmao so blood. kinda vague but graphic mentions of injuries?? drinking and vague mentions of weed. uhhhhhhhhhhhh think that's it? lmk if there's anything you wanna see tagged

“Why are you so invested in this?” 

Frank made it a point to not be looking at Julie. He leaned against the locker besides hers and stared straight ahead at the other kids who passed them. No one spared him a look; if they noticed him watching they pretended they didn’t. Sometimes, though, the kid with glasses who stood by the water fountain glanced over nervously. Frank was pretty sure it was his locker he was leaning on. 

“I ain’t invested in shit,” he finally replied, leading Julie to scoff hotly.

“Please, dick, I haven’t talked to you in, like, a month and all of a sudden your on my ass about a fucking Halloween party.” 

Frank rolled his eyes. “I talk to you all the time.” 

Julie slammed her locker shut, pre-calc binder in her hands and nothing else. She was like Danny, in that sense. Never needed everything that was required to pass a class. “You talk to Joey,” she said, “who then talks to us. That’s not the same thing.” 

“I’ve been b - “

“With what? Busy with fucking what, Frank?” 

This didn’t seem to be a mostly-joking argument anymore. Julie’s voice was getting cooler by the second and her features were twisted in aggravation. For reasons he can’t understand or know, this in turn aggravated Frank, too. 

“I have a life outside of you assholes - why is that so fucking hard for you to get?”

Julie took a step away from him toward the 300 wing where her Physics class was, glaring at him. “Because we’re your fucking  _ friends,  _ asshole.” 

Frank threw his hands into the air, frustratedly confused. “Then why are you getting so pissy with me asking to hang out?” 

“You’re asking about a party.”

_ “To hang out at!” _

Julie spun around. “It’s gonna be next weekend!”

_ “ _F_ ine.  _ I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll see you at lunch,” she snapped over her shoulder as she stalked off. 

Frank watched her go for just a moment, then heaved himself up off the locker. He caught the kid’s eyes, who’d still been watching the entire time. He looked a little unsettled at the interaction he’d witnessed and he looked petrified at being caught by Frank. 

He made sure to pass the kid up close, their shoulders almost bumping. The only reason they didn’t was because the kid pressed back up against the wall; his hip knocked into the water fountain’s button and a spurt of water shot out.

Frank snorted and shook his head. “Th'fuck're you standing around for? You’re gonna be late to fuckin’ class,” he told the kid, then headed down the hall, opposite of where Julie disappeared to. 

-

Frank’s packing up his shit from practice, and besides him the locker room was empty up until it wasn’t anymore. He saw Danny in one of the mirrors at the end of the row of lockers. He didn’t hear him come in, and honestly he’s got no idea on how he got in in the first place. Coach Raxter should still be out in the gym locking up the gear closet. 

Then again, it was Danny. 

Instead of letting the other get off on catching him by surprise, Frank worked hard on not reacting to his sudden presence. He caught his eyes in the reflection and then went back to stuffing his sweaty t-shirt into a bag that didn’t want to fit it. 

“The week after next,” he said, casually like he was picking up a conversation they weren’t having, “Julie’s parents are ditching town, her grandmother needs some shit moved around, I don’t know. She’s throwing something for Halloween.” 

“Okay,” Danny replied, disinteredly.

Frank gave him an annoyed look. “It’s one of Julie’s parties. Everyone’s gonna be there.” 

“Even her?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “It’s  _ Julie’s _ party.” 

Danny appeared to mull this over. Frank couldn’t tell if it was a show to piss him off or if he genuinely was debating the prospect with himself. “A lot of witnesses at a party.” 

Zipping up his bag, he swung it up onto his shoulder and stared at the other. He hoped it came off like a challenge. “A lot of people to blame.” He tilted his head and grinned a little cruelly even though Danny mimicked it, obviously having some fun himself. “You scared, D? Might be a little bit harder than some old bitch.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Danny told him without heat. “That old bitch was my great aunt.” 

A silence fell over them. Long enough for it to sink in, really and honestly, what they’re talking about. It got him excited. 

“Are we really gonna do this? Like, no bullshit?” 

“ _ Scared, _ Frankie?” Danny mocked.

He shook his head. “No.”

Danny looked thrilled. “You’re gonna need a costume,” he said, making Frank scowl. 

“Yeah fucking right.” 

-

The following days passed by slowly, and Frank didn’t know whether to chalk that up to what could possibly be anticipation, or to the fact that outside of World History he didn’t see Danny. He stopped meeting him outside of the gym and he didn’t show up at Frank’s window at odd times of the night - a recent habit he’d taken up. Always managing to scare the shit out of Frank by tapping on the glass maybe twenty minutes after Clive stumbled to bed. 

He wouldn’t say he missed the fuck. Mostly, he was just pissed. And he wasn’t about to give Danny the satisfaction of asking him why he started disappearing.

He’d bitch at him about it, though. He was never above being a piece of shit on purpose. 

So he’d followed him once the bell rang, a few people’s worth of space between them. He wasn’t trying to be sneaky, but it irked Frank a little bit that Danny knew to hang back before he went into his next class - AP Chem. Frank barely held back a snarled,  _ fucking nerd,  _ deciding not to be that embarrassingly petty. 

“Unless you’ve recently grown a brain, I think you’re on the wrong side of the school, Frankie,” Danny greeted once the crowds had thinned out. 

“Fuck you.” Frank frowned at the cheery tone of his voice and glared up at him. His black eyes had equally dark circles underneath them. “Where the hell have you been?”

Danny pretended to be confused, pointed down the hall from where they’d just come. “World History, I could’ve sworn I saw you there.” 

“Other than  _ that,  _ dick.” 

“Aw,” he cooed, tilting his head. “You miss me, baby?”

Frank’s fists clenched by his sides. “Don’t fuck with me on this, Danny.” The smile dropped from the other’s face, becoming that hauntingly blank slate. Good. “Are we still even doing this?” 

Still, Danny managed to play with him. “Doing what?”

All too aware of the students still milling around before last bell, Frank gritted out, “The party, dick.”

“I’m not going,” he announced matter-of-factly, so much so that Frank thought he was going to scream. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ \- “

_ “You’re  _ going.” Danny’s saying that slowly, intently.  _“I_ never go to parties. That would be weird, wouldn’t it? If I just randomly started showing up. I’ve got a mysterious new kid reputation to keep, Frankie.” 

Frank stared at him. “I thought we - “

Danny put a hand on his shoulder and led him away from the still-open classroom door. “This is why you need me,” he told Frank, which caused him to duck out from under his touch. Danny wasn’t bothered as long as he kept moving. “You were just gonna wing it, weren’t you? Not even a semblance of a plan?” Strangely, despite his mask still missing, he sounded a little amused at this. Mocking and fond once again. 

“The plan was to do it and not get caught,” Frank snapped stubbornly. 

“Minute details, sweetheart. That’s what it’s all about.” 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do until then?” 

Danny shrugged. “Play with your friends? Do your homework, practice your…” he trailed off here, gesturing with a hand like he was searching for something. “Sport,” he finished. 

“Basketball,” Frank supplied flatly. 

“Sure.” When Frank didn’t say anything else, Danny finally let his amusement show on his face with a sleep-dull grin. “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting it handled. All you’ll have to do is show up.” 

-

Frank did as he was told. He laid low, let Danny slip in and out as he pleased, and then come Friday, he showed up.

Late, but everyone knew he was going to be. The game he had was out of town, but only about forty-five minutes away. They’d won, but barely, and Frank hadn’t cared about the close score. Half of the game was spent watching the clock and ignoring Raxter barking him to get his head in the game - he said that. He said  _ get your head in the game  _ with a straight face, and Frank hadn’t known whether to swear at him or laugh in his face. 

They got shipped back to Ormond High, the bus driver taking turns a little too eagerly. Probably having something else to do on a Friday night as well. Some of the kids muttered a thanks to him but, much like Frank, he stayed silent as they passed. 

No one said anything to him as he shoved forward, especially since it was Brideler who’s shoulder he knocked to the side to get to the parking lot. He trudged forward, ignored them like they ignored him, and headed for the familiar car sat idling in the parking space closest to the exit. 

“‘Ey, there he is,” Joey said as Frank opened the door. He grunted in response and Joey took it in stride. “Wanna stop at your place first to drop your shit off and shower?” Frank grunted again in affirmative with a nod. 

Clive’s truck wasn’t parked on the sidewalk when Joey pulled up, so Frank drug himself up the walkway and kicked the door open, then closed. First thing he did was dump his bag, emptied it of his gym stuff and uniform messily onto the bed. Kicking around a few things until he uncovered clothes he knows were clean, gathered them up, then moved to the shitty, closet-sized bathroom. Joey was outside waiting for him, so he couldn’t wait for the water to go warm like he usually did. Just stood under it long enough to get his hair clean, let the water and suds hit everything else. 

He dressed, got back to his room, kicked around more clothes until he found another shirt and a pair of darker colored jeans, found his old leather jacket in the dregs of his closet, and stuffed it all in his duffel. He pulled on his varsity jacket and pulled the hood up to fend of the harsh wind on his wet hair. It was getting longer; there was more brown now than silver now. 

Frank climbed back into the car. Joey looked up from where he’d been hunched over his phone, heat blasting but his hood was up as well. It’s how he couldn’t tell Frank still had his bag with him up until he knocked Joey in the temple with it as he was throwing it in the backseat. 

“Little,” Joey paused, thought about his word choice before he kept going. He pulled back onto the road and then finally said,  _ “Presumptuous,  _ are we?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frank asked calmly, settling back into the seat. After a moment he leaned forward again to shift the air vents away from him so they weren’t cooking him alive.

Joey gave him a brief unimpressed look. “Dude. You’re going to Julie’s with a bag full of clothes.” 

Frank made it obvious in his own expression that he wasn’t following. “And that’s… illegal?” 

“What d’you think other people are gonna think when you show up with a bag of shit like you’re planning on staying for the night? What d’you think  _ Julie’s  _ gonna think?” 

“What if I was planning on staying at your place?” Frank asked petulantly, making Joey laugh. 

“No one in a million fucking years would think you’re coming to my house after the party. Especially not after you tried to fight my dad in the parking lot at that shitty winter formal.” 

“He was being an asshole,” Frank defended.

“You were drunk,” Joey said. 

“He’s still a fucking asshole.”

Joey scoffed. “Sure, man.” 

“They wouldn’t notice if I did, anyway. You live in a god damn mansion.” 

“Frank, buddy,” Joey gave him another look. “You weren’t planning on coming to my house.” 

He let it go. Might as well roll with it. Better than letting him think he was going to do anything else with a bag full of clothes other than murder in them. Hopefully. It was getting late. Suddenly, for a moment, he’s terrified of the prospect of Danny waiting for him long enough to think he bailed. Worried that Danny would leave. Scared that he’d start without him.

Crossing his arms and looking out the window, Frank said, “Just hurry.”

-

Julie’s house - like Joey’s, like Susie’s - was fucking huge. 

The yard was sprawling, lights and inflatable decorations that had once probably been strategically placed were littered about. People were outside still, and Frank could tell by gold lining around the front door that it wasn’t because they were denied entry. Smoke curled above a lot of their heads, sometimes grey, sometimes blue. 

A guy was running around the side of the house and into the front, dressed in a cloak with a plastic scythe. Two girls ran from him, one in a nurse costume and another in jeans and a sweatshirt despite the frozen air. Both were shrieking, dodging the fake blade as it swung in an arc, catching the greenorangepurpleblue lights. 

Knowing he wouldn’t see him, Frank searched for Danny anyway. There wasn’t anyone he knew by name, but he recognized the faces. He rested a hand on the handle to the door but didn’t want to look too eager, so he waited. 

Joey’s car went soundless, dark, and he clapped Frank on the shoulder with a, “Ready?” 

Frank responded by opening the door. 

Inside smelled of spilled booze, stage makeup, and sweat. Frank had been in Julie’s house several times and this was how he knew it best - a near disaster. The space seemed more empty without groups of people lounging on every available surface. It wasn’t so much of a home to a family more than it was a place to go to get blasted after midterms or a big game. Julie’s parents were under no pretenses unaware of what their daughter did when they weren’t home, but she got good grades and the cops hadn’t been called yet. As long as the place was back in shape by the time they decided to return to it, they pretended it didn’t happen. 

Fucking rich kids. 

Joey moved in front of Frank to push through the kids that flooded the more narrow spaces in between rooms. He was broader and just a little taller than Frank, so he let him. There’s more costumes. Painted faces that Frank stared too long at trying to see if he recognized them. 

Julie wasn’t in costume. They found her in the kitchen with Susie; a bottle of Malort was in her hands and a disinterested look on her face despite the screaming going on around her. Susie didn’t wear anything special, either, but her hair was a new vibrant neon blue. She was wide-eyed like she always was at these sort of things. Joey, as always, sensed it immediately and slid around Julie to be at her side. 

“Long time no see,” he said, because he left the party to get Frank and he thought he was funny. 

“Do you think I’m a bitch if I make Sam clean his own puke up off my bathroom floor?” 

“No,” Joey answered on instinct, “fuck him.”

Julie looked at Susie pointedly. 

“He was  _ trying  _ to get it into the toilet,” Susie replied. It sounded like she’d already said this before. “And he was still puking when you yelled at him, he probably didn’t even hear you.” 

“He deserves it.” At once, all their attention went to Frank. “He probably got into hard shit to show off even though everyone knows he drinks his mom’s seltzers.” 

Joey barked a laugh and Julie smirked. Susie let herself smile. 

“You’re one to talk,” Julie said, gesturing to the beer Joey was handing him. “Real  _ hard shit,  _ Frank. Don’t you wanna do some shots before you start drinking water?”

As a response, he brought the can up to his mouth and took a few generous pulls, lowered once it was less than half full with a satisfied noise, and said “Fuck you.” 

Honestly, he wasn’t surprised she asked. It wasn’t like him to start slow but he wasn’t here to drink. Not that they could know that, and outright denying something at all would be too suspicious. He was going to have to compromise and be an asshole while doing so, which luckily was in character for him. 

Another group of kids fell through the kitchen’s entryway, all in hysterics. One guy in a hotdog costume was hanging off another kid wrapped in toilet paper. The girl with them sported an undercut and a leather jacket, leading them both. 

Frank looked them over and even though it was obvious none of them was the person he was looking for, he made sure to glower at them anyway. Where the  _ fuck  _ was Danny? Where was he even supposed to meet him, if he wasn’t going to be inside? Did he just expect Frank to wander around Julie’s property until he found him? As if that was inconspicuous? 

Frank set his jaw. Had this son of a bitch _actually_ bailed on him? 

“Piece of shit,” he muttered to himself. 

“Who’s all here?” Frank heard Joey ask. 

Julie’s answer was not surprising. “Everyone who matters.” 

“Heather?”

“Oh,  _ jesus,  _ with this shit again.” 

“Everyone has to have a crush on a cheerleader at least once in their life,” Susie announced sagely, Joey nodding his head along with her.

It was like a switch flipped. As another couple filed in and neither of them were Danny, Frank suddenly found himself losing patience for the line of conversation. It seemed fucking stupid. Like a waste of his time. He was realizing that, had it not been for the promise of - of something  _ more,  _ he probably wouldn’t have come to this party. He finished the beer as hastily as he started it, forcing his attention to his little group. He ended up watching more than listening; they talked animatedly, Julie smirking, Susie trying to stifle laughter, Joey eating it all up.  None of them noticed that Frank wasn’t participating. None of them tried to get him to join in on the conversation. He didn’t want them to. A line had been drawn, and it looked like it’d been done by his hand. How long after he distanced himself from them had they grown over the hole in their dynamic? Was it easy? Did they care as much as they seemed to at first? Did Frank want them to?

No. Probably not. He told himself it didn’t irritate him. Because, in all honesty, he didn’t need them.

He needed to fucking find Danny, the rat fuck.

He knocked his elbow into Joey’s arm and said, “I’m gonna go take a piss.”

Joey very quickly sent him off with an, “Alright, man,” before he went back to the girls. 

There were so many fucking rooms in this fucking house. There were so many fucking  _ people  _ in this house. So many fucking people in fucking costumes trying to be funny or creepy. Masks stared at Frank as he shoved passed them and he fought the very strong urge to rip them off the people’s heads. And if the person underneath wasn’t the one he was looking for, fuck, he might just start swinging.  He felt watched and unseen all at once. All those hidden eyes on them and what the hell did they matter, anyway? Frank went from room to room and he could just tell that Danny wasn’t one of the costumed people. Too many people looking at him and he didn’t feel a goddamn thing. Nothing but pissed off, at least.

Frank gave up on the third floor. Resigned to getting plastered downstairs and force himself to give a shit about the rest of the Legion’s antics. He stomped back down the stairs, letting others move around him rather than asking for an easy passage. 

On the second floor, his phone buzzed as he passed Julie’s bedroom.

For a moment, he stared at the closed door curiously. There was nothing obvious about it. He might not have known it was Julie’s had it not been for the numerous times he’d snuck in in the past. 

He looked at the door for another moment. No one was meant to go inside. That was Julie’s two rules of the house. Hers and her parents' bedrooms were off limits. Frank stood still, listened for movement on the other side. There was nothing. 

His phone buzzed again. 

He pulled it out of his pocket, keeping his eyes on the doorknob. Nothing, so he entered his passcode and looked at the notification. 

_ outside _ _   
_ _ preferably tonight _

Frank looked at the contact name and already knew it was going to be from an unknown number before he even saw it.

_ where,  _ he sent back without asking who it was. 

Not a second later an infuriating reply came through:  _ outside _

Frank sneered, shoving his phone back into his pocket and storming down the rest of the stairs. He didn’t give Julie’s room another look. 

The cold air reintroduced itself to him with a gust of wind. He barely felt it. Grass crunched under his shoes as he forwent the walkway, stepping through Julie’s dad’s herb garden. Others were still outside. He walked around the house and more people were there, too. The garage door was opened and more people were in there. He rounded the house’s corner, and the backyard - while not much - still had people. No one looked at Frank as he ventured further. No one acted like they’d been expecting him. 

He clenched his hand into a fist so hard his knuckles popped. His phone buzzed and his arm suddenly burned with the need to throw it into the woods surrounding the house.

_ wanna play hot and cold all night? _

“Fucking - “ Frank hissed, but stopped short when he saw a flash of light in between the trees. Too white to be Halloween decorations. More like a phone being locked. He moved toward it. 

Danny was leaning against a tree like a prick might lean against a doorway if they thought too much of themselves. He was grinning, arms crossed as if he hadn’t expected Frank to come across him but was absolutely delighted that he had. 

“This is fucking weird,” Frank snapped at him, not worrying about the volume of his voice. They were deep enough in the trees that the music spilling from the house would cover it, and then the playful shrieks of other kids covering up  _ that.  _ “Why the fuck are you in the woods?” 

“You don’t have a costume,” Danny said, ignoring him. He actually sounded like this genuinely disappointed him. 

“I told you I wasn’t going to have one, D, I’m not fucking twelve.” 

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “But you brought your smiley-face mask, I’m assuming?” 

Frank felt his nostrils flare. “Yes,” he bit out. 

That made the other smile. “Enough people saw you?”

“Everyone saw me. I was on every floor of that fucking house looking for you.” 

“You found me, Frankie.” He pushed up off the tree and stood next to Frank, nodding toward the house. “She’s in there.”

“No shit,” he said, looking toward it as well. “It’s Julie’s party.”

Danny ignored that, too. “There’s three rooms that’re dark. Two on the second floor, one on the third.” 

“That’s the attic,” Frank explained. “People probably don’t know about it. It has one of those ceiling hatches. The other two’re bedrooms.” 

“Frequent Miss Kostenko's often, do we?” 

“She’s my best friend.” The statement came out automatically because he was used to it, momentarily forgetting that it wasn’t true. 

Danny stared at him for a good while. He knew it wasn’t true either, but he let it go. “You know how to get her alone, then?” 

Frank shrugged. “What room you want?” 

-

Her head felt heavy. 

It was like every time the beat thumped from the surround sound speakers up on every available corner, her vision swam. Shook to the base. She soldiered on, though, sometimes using the wall or another person to steady herself when her steps came faster than she wanted them to.

She probably shouldn’t have gone too fast that early in the night, but she’d been pissed. They were right to take the Malort away when they did, though. She’d be on the floor if not.

It was all  _ his  _ fucking fault anyway. Showing up long enough to get a drink and then disappearing on her again. If he thought this was a game, she’s planning on ending it tonight. Once she fucking found him, his ass was  _ de ad. _

She pulled herself up another flight of stairs, called his name. There wasn’t any answer. Only a few people looked her way and when they did she asked them if they’d seen him. They all shrugged, said no. 

_ Prick,  _ she thought, then continued down the hall.

It was quiet up here. Most of the people were waiting for the bathroom. The only good spot was the guest room on the third floor and the whole ass rec room next to it. The only thing here were bedrooms that were off limits. Most people sat on the stairs or just kept going. The in-between floor. Transition floor. 

Fuck, she needed water or something. 

_ Or something _ being beating his fucking face in.

She tripped on the runner they had along the hall’s floor, a bulge pulled up from someone else passing through at some point. She cursed at it as she caught herself on the wall. Using the same wall to lean on, she kicked it down until it was flat again, then swore once more. 

Across from her, the door creaked, revealing a dark gap that led inside. She called his name again.

“Are you in there? You’re not supposed to be,” she said. Despite her own words, she pushed the door further open to slip inside. 

It was dark but the lights from the backyard outside casted enough of a glow to illuminate the silhouette of whoever-the-fuck was waiting for her. The figure was tall, dark - some hooded cloak from a cheap looking costume. The figure turned as she entered, the mask he wore stark white. She’d seen the same one in, like, every fucking party store she’d been in. Elongated and gaunt, a skull caught in its last moment of terror.

She said his name again through a laugh. “Sick fucking joke, dude. Julie’s gonna kill you when she finds out you broke into her parents’ room.” He didn’t say anything. Tilted his head. She rolled her eyes. “Quit the fucking act, I’m not an idiot - Emily and Charlie might still scream like they’re still freshman at these things, but I’m a big girl.” 

Still nothing from him. 

“Mark, c’mon,” she snapped. She was already pissed off as it was, and all it took was the nerve of this asshole to do something like this. Have a drink with her long enough to be acceptable before ditching her for fucking  _ Heather  _ of all people. As if she was stupid enough to fall for it. Mark just wanted his options open. Actually that’s probably what happened - he shot his shot and missed like the moron she always knew he was and now he was here, grovelling again. 

Fuck it, then. Grovel he shall. 

She forced a pout onto her face and stepped forward, once, then twice. Tantalizing. “What’s a’matter, baby? Heather didn’t want to play with you?”

Mark’s head straightened from where he still had it tilted to the side then shook it in a silent  _ no.  _

She gasped dramatically. Now she was close enough that she had to look up at him. “Poor thing. Is that why you’re hiding in the dark, waiting for me to come and kiss you better? Tell you that that big bad bitch doesn’t know what she’s missing?” 

Mark seemed to hesitate because he didn’t nod or shake his head this time. 

She looked up at him through her lashes, continuing in a sweet tone, “You think you’re tough shit jumping from girl to girl, huh?”

His shoulders bounced in what could have been a laugh or a shrug. Either way, fuck him. 

“Still got nothing to say?”

He shook his head.

Again, she rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll play along.” Another step forward and she placed a hand on his chest, rubbing up to grip his shoulder. “Oh, Mister Ghostface, I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered breathily, moaning out some of the vowels just to mess around. “Freddy Krueger cut my whole shit up, I almost didn’t make it - won’t you protect me, baby?”

Mark’s head tilted again. He shook it to say no. 

She gasped even harder than the last time. “But - but, Mister Ghostface! You’d just let me die?” 

He nodded. After being mostly still, he shifted and the movement brought a sudden chill into the room. Raised his arms and pulled a knife from - from somewhere. She blinked at it a few times. Plastic didn’t shine like that, did it? 

“Mark, what the fuck?” She took a slow step back. “Is that real?”

He took a step forward. Without a response.

“Mark?” She asked again, suddenly unsure.

He shook his head. 

_ “ Fuck - “  _

She spun around and nearly fell over herself to get to the still open door, sprinting despite how off balance she was. Somehow, by some grace of god or whatever the fuck was out there, she remained upright. The door, however, did not stay open. It slammed shut and she yelped in fear, in shock, and before she could fall against it, something grabbed her arm and yanked her upright, almost up off her feet. 

It was someone else, not the guy behind her - the one who’d shut the door on her. She looked up and through the tears in her eyes she saw a smiling face, but its skin was pale like the first mask - _mask,_ mask it was a mask - 

She swung an arm down in an attempt to hammer her fist into the new guy’s shoulder, but with what seemed like very little effort, he threw her forward using the grip he had. This time, she did stumble, fell onto her ass with a sob. Later, when they finally called the joke, she’d blame how drunk she was, she’d always been an emotional drunk, they should know that.

“C’mon, guys,” she cried, scooting backward with her heels. “Y-you can fucking stop, now, okay? I get it, you’re big fucking tough, scary dudes - “

The second guy had a knife, too. He held it different, she didn’t know why she noticed this. The dude behind her was hauntingly relaxed, poised. Calm. This guy was the opposite - not nervous, but rigid. Brittle lines and clenched fists. 

She had a sinking feeling that this was not a joke. 

-

Ashley Whatsherface drew her knees up to her chest, put her hands in front of her face. Her makeup was streaking even worse than it was when she first came in, but she hadn’t been crying then. 

“Please,” she said again, whimpering. 

Frank kept staring at her. His heart was thumping every other second. He was waiting for something. There was supposed to be more, wasn’t there?

Standing on her other side, Danny was watching him through his own, stupid fucking mask. Ashley’s back was to him, so the way he was raising his knife slowly wasn’t for her to see. It was a threat, but directed toward Frank.  _ He’d go first,  _ the blade pointing toward the ground said,  _ we can’t stay here forever. _

Frank growled, crouched down enough to knock away the feeble defense of Ashley’s arms. She screamed, but no one would hear it over the music. Maybe they would, but no one would check on it. No one would care. 

His free hand went to Ashley Whatsherface’s throat, stopping any other scream, and with his other he slid his knife into her chest with a hard push. 

It went in easier than he expected. Maybe he was too forceful, too excited. Out of nowhere, with no warning, he heard Clive’s voice.  _ Right above the chest, saw to the right - that’ll get all the veins. Do it fast enough, pull the knife out quick, you won’t even get any blood on you. Buck’ll bleed out in a minute. ‘S good, get some fresh lunch.  _

Frank pulled the knife out fast. There was blood. He hadn’t done it fast enough, evidently. He wiped either side of the blade on the sleeve of his leather jacket. Spun the knife on the palm of his hand to get a different hold on it. He thought that might help. 

He stabbed her again, put his weight onto it to sink it in deep, then pulled down. Her shirt, skin, flesh split and gushed red. That time she didn’t even scream. Her eyes were wide, surrounded in smudged wet black, and her red lips dribbled more red. 

That one didn’t seem any better. She started coughing and he let her throat go. Frank stood and watched her subconsciously try to curl in on herself. Mostly she twitched, hands pressed into the wound on her abdomen. Red soaked into her Velma costume, her fingers sliding against it on her skin revealed by the tear in her shirt.

_ “Pl - lease,”  _ she croaked, not even looking at them anymore. 

Frank’s own chest jumped. His breathing, rapid, was suddenly deafening. Rasping. He raised his wrist to muffle it and it knocked into his mask. Someone was going to hear him, catch him before he was finished. He didn’t want to be finished until he got it right. Until it felt right. 

Something touched his shoulder and he jolted violently. Danny didn’t recoil, kept his hand on him and tilted his head. 

Shit.  _ Shit.  _ “I’m fine,” Frank got out. He didn’t shrug out from under the other’s touch. Ashley Whatsherface began choking on the blood climbing up her throat. He shook his head. “It’s just - “ he started, but never finished. He shook his head again.

Danny watched him for another second, but there wasn’t much to see since Frank’s mask was still on. So he let him go, Fingers squeezing just enough for Frank to notice it. He was surprised he did. Almost didn't.

Danny faced Ashley Whatsherface and used his boot to shove at her hip until he flipped her over onto her stomach. She made a pained noise, a muffled scream now that her weight was put onto the wounds on her front.  Frank watched Danny drop down onto her hips, saw her claw at the carpet like she could still get away. He stabbed her again, twice. Efficient and quick. Once in the lower back, then in the side. So fast she couldn’t even scream for each attack. When he pulled the knife out, there was hardly any blood. Fast. Then he held the knife over his head, both hands on the grip, and plunged it in between her shoulders. Readjusted the hold, then pressed it down further. Ashley Whatserface didn’t scream that time. 

Spine. Kidney. Spine. 

With a gloved hand, Danny picked her head up by her ponytail and - 

“What the fuck,” Frank managed to say right as a phone’s flash went off. Danny checked the screen before he looked at Frank, shoving the phone back into the depths of his cloak. This time the tilt of Danny’s mask was curious, not mocking like it had been with the girl on the floor. Must have been because Frank’s exclamation had been toneless. It was hard to tell what he'd meant behind it. What he was thinking. 

Because Danny had just taken a selfie with the recently dead body of their classmate.

And Frank had wanted to fucking laugh. So he did. Starting off with a quiet snicker that bled into a steady laugh that he tried to stifle, which made him snort.

Danny kept staring and for some reason, Frank’s only explanation was an impish,  _ “Mister Ghostface.” _ His laughter started back up again and, for a moment, Danny laughed as well. A quiet little chuckle, like Frank's amusement was horribly endearing. 

Then he pulled his knife out from Ashley’s back and placed the blade between his thumb and palm, pressed them together, then pulled the knife so the leftover blood collected on the glove. Frank’s laughter stopped immediately. All of his senses were on fire and that movement was incredibly intriguing. 

He kinda wanted to see it again. 

Danny stood. Frank stared into the dark, oblong eyes and tried to see anything of the person behind it. He couldn’t. 

The hand that had wiped the knife clean rose and with the thumb, Danny - painstakingly slow - swiped over the eyes of Frank’s mask. He held his breath as the other worked, kept as still as he could manage. It felt like every muscle sitting underneath his skin was thrumming. Not moving was difficult, but he didn’t want to. This felt important. In some sick, fucked, wild kind of way, his mask being marked by Danny was like a religious experience. Christened. A fucking blessing.

Once he was done - two short, vertical lines along each eye - Danny let his hand drop. And that was it. He just continued to stare down at Frank. 

Finally, air gushed from Frank’s lungs. Then back in. He said, “Take the fucking mask off.” 

Danny did, as well as the hood. Frank did the same, less smoothly, and pulled the taller down by his neck, crushing their mouths together. It registered after Danny’s grunt that it might’ve hurt if he felt it - or maybe it  _ will  _ hurt when he let it - but Frank pushed on, shoved his tongue in between Danny’s teeth and forced the other’s head to the side.  Danny let out a low noise, graveled like a growl, and pressed Frank into the door with his hips. His hands felt hot from where he had them. Frank could feel the heat through his jacket, his hoodie, Danny’s bloody gloves. He fought against the other’s grip, wanting to be the one pushing rather than the one pushed. Danny did not give up much space.

“Easy,” he whispered against Frank’s lips. He could tell by the shape of his mouth he was smiling. 

“Fuck,” Frank panted. He moved forward, tried to kiss him again, but Danny leaned far enough back that it got him nowhere. He snarled.  _ “Fuck,  _ I want - “

“Easy,” Danny said again. “You need to change.” 

Frank furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Your clothes.” As he spoke, he used his height to ghost his mouth around Frank’s hairline, pressing a barely-there kiss where his hood wasn’t covering. “You need to get back to the party.” 

Frank pursed his lips. He wanted to argue but realistically, he knew it was pretty crucial for him to listen. He shoved Danny away moodily, which only seemed to amuse the other, and went over to the giant king-sized bed. Crouching, he drug his duffel out from under it and his clothes were already spilling out the opening from where he’d changed not twenty minutes ago. 

He undressed in silence, dropping the clothes on the floor for Danny to pick up and stuff into a garbage bag. Once it was full and they were sure no blood was stained anywhere but the fabric, Frank redressed and the garbage bag was shoved into the duffel. Clinical. Planned. Thoughtful. 

Danny threw the window open on the far side of the room, popped the screen out. Frank understood then why he’d chosen that room; the roof to the first floor extended out this way. It was easy to climb down. Didn’t have to go back through the house. No one to see him if he was fast and quiet enough. 

The duffel went out first, rolling down the slight decline and then falling onto the ground with a dull thump. They waited. Either everyone had abandoned the side of the house, or they moved inside to avoid the cold. Danny swung a leg over the sill and looked at Frank. 

“Stay for an hour. I’ll be at your place.” 

He’s pulling on the hood again to that stupid fucking cloak. As he’s slipping the mask back on, Frank said, “Clive might be there.” 

“If Clive is there,” he scoffed, getting his other leg out and fitting the screen back in. “I’ll fucking kill him.” 

-

No one found the body before Frank left, which made sense. No one would think a locked door to a room no one was supposed to go into would be weird. 

He waited until ten past twelve. Joey had been glad to have him at his side again, pressing can after can of dogshit beer into Frank’s grasp. He was in a mood, but Frank hadn’t cared enough to ask about Heather and how that’d went, if it went at all. Probably not well, given that he was still at the bottom floor and not in a corner with her. 

When he asked to bail, Joey didn’t try to argue. He shrugged and went to find Julie to tell her they were leaving. 

Even halfway to completely fucked, Joey kept them on the road with what seemed like half his focus. He’d asked Frank if he was sure he wanted to go home. Frank had said yes. It was too cold for the lodge. 

Fifteen minutes and the houses went from three story colonial homes to two-bedroom messes. Joey pulled up to the one that belonged to Frank. 

All the windows were dark. Even when he squinted, he couldn’t make out the blue-light flashes of a television. Danny was supposed to be here already. Clive’s car wasn’t in sight, but still his heart kicked up. It wouldn’t have been the first time Clive had stumbled home rather than risk it like Joey. Had he slammed open the door to Danny there, waiting for him? Or was he already passed out drunk on his recliner by the time Danny got there? Would Danny wake him up to kill him? He seemed like a big enough dick. The way he messed around, it was easy to tell Danny liked the attention. He liked the wide eyed look of realization, the screams, the feeble fights. 

“You good, man?” 

_ Fuck,  _ okay. Frank held his breath just in case his chest had been heaving. “Yeah.” He pulled at the door handle, yanked the lock, then pulled again. “Thanks.” 

He didn’t look at him, but he could tell in the small, hesitant pause that Joey was confused. Frank climbed out and before he could kick the door shut, Joey finally collected himself to say, “Wait, dude - “ He looked over his shoulder at the back seat. “Your shit,” he finished slowly, sounding like a question, because Frank’s ‘shit’ was nowhere to be found. 

“Must’ve left it at Julie’s,” Frank lied with a shrug. He tried closing the door again, but Joey shook his head.

“I don’t remember you bringing it in,” he said quietly. The dots connecting inside his head was practically visible on his face. 

Frank didn’t get nervous or panicked. He was impatient. He wanted to fucking go inside. “You’re plastered, man. You good to drive home?” He only asked because he knew Joey would say yes. 

“Yeah - yeah, dude.” He shook his head and sat back in his seat. “I should be good. I’ll text you.” 

Frank shrugged. “Sure, man.” He probably wasn’t going to look at his phone tonight. 

Joey’s car continued down the road and once it’s far enough away, the only sound is Frank’s footsteps crunching up the gravel to his front door. He found his keys and he held his breath again, straining his ears as if he might be able to hear something - anything. Clive’s snoring or maybe his ragged, strangled breathing. 

He can’t hear anything, but he chalked that up to being sort of drunk. 

He opened the door.

The only thing that greeted him was his own shitty house. No blood, no signs of struggle. No Clive. 

No Danny, either. 

Frank cussed, kicked the door shut. Piece of shit. 

Frank didn’t bother turning the lights on. He went to his room, shedding his varsity jacket aggressively, stupidly, because no one was here to see his rage but him. He threw it onto his bed, planned to storm across the hall for the bathroom. Stand angrily in the shower until the water went from freezing, to hot, to lukewarm, to freezing again. He stopped. 

His mask was sat atop the old, beat up dresser. It was the only difference; the same clothes were spilling out of the same drawer that had been broken off its tracks since Clive had drug it home. Frank moved over to it, his anger leaving him in one fell swoop. He didn’t dare touch it for some reason. Like maybe testing to see if it was real would make it disappear. It was the first time he saw it since he’d put it on earlier in the night; more grey than white. Black scratches from sharpie. Those had been covered, he found. A red swipe across the crudely drawn smiling mouth. Frank remembered pressing his wrist to that spot, the arm he’d wiped his knife on. 

The eyes were covered, too. Two lines, the width of a thumbprint. 

“Your dad has an impressively extensive porn mag collection.” 

Frank’s head swiveled toward the doorway where Danny stood. He was dressed in his boring neutrals - black jeans, grey hoodie, scuffed brown boots. He didn’t look like someone who’d spent his evening hiding in a stranger’s house.

“He’s not my dad,” Frank muttered. Now that the other was in front of him, he felt strangely… detached. He got what he wanted - the party, action, and now Danny in front of him - but he’s thrown back to the master bedroom. Blood on his hands, face, body, but haunted by the feeling of something missing. Like he was breathing with only one lung, and even that one had been punctured. Unfinished. Fragmented. 

Danny’s head cocked to the side. “But you knew about the magazines.” 

He was trying to get a rise out of him. On purpose. He could tell something was wrong. 

“Frankie,” he cooed, stepping forward. He put a hand on Frank’s hip, on his neck. Frank let him for lack of wanting to do anything else. “I think you might be a little lost.” 

Is that what this was? What he was feeling? “I’m - “ He cut himself off. He shook his head. 

Danny drug him closer until their chests were pressed together, until Frank’s head rested on his shoulder. It could’ve been an attempt at comfort. Frank knew better. It was a cage. It was a bit of a threat - promise.  _ Tell me you’re not going to break, tell me you’re not going to fuck this up for us.  _

Frank could’ve laughed if he’d had it in him. Because there wasn’t an ounce of regret that he felt. No. Maybe not regret. Guilt, because a part of him  _ did  _ regret Ashley Whatsherface dying the way she did. It was supposed to be different, that’s all he could think. It didn’t go the way he thought it was going to. 

He said that part out loud and Danny hummed thoughtfully. 

“First times are always memorable,” he commented. “Sometimes not for the best reasons.” 

Frank sighed, frustrated, and the fabric of Danny’s hoodie became hot. “I wanna do it again,” he said, because something had been missing and it felt like his brain was going to scream until he found out what it was. 

Danny’s arms loosen around him, no longer a trap but now an actual embrace. It felt just as odd, but Frank still had no urge to stop him. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispered, and Frank could hear the grin in his voice. He stepped forward, further into Frank’s room, and Frank was forced to walk backwards. “I think you could do better than tonight - don’t you? Don’t you wanna do more?” 

The hand on his hip gripped harder. The hand on his neck moved down, lower, pressing into his lower back.

Frank, predictably, rose to the challenge. He grinned, snarling enough to where it almost came off like a grimace, and spun them around so Danny’s back was to his bed. Then he shoved him - hard - and he fell back onto it with a giddy, excited, maniacal laugh. 

He followed him onto it, springs in the shitty mattress squealing as he got his knees on either side of Danny’s hips. 

“I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I wanna do,” he hissed, hunching over the other. 

“It’s a fucking power trip,” Danny kept going, grabbing Frank by the hips again and squeezing. His black eyes were shining in the dark somehow and Frank couldn’t look away. “Choosing someone, being able to take something like that away - a whole fucking life, Frank.” 

_ “Fuck,” _ Frank hissed. At some point, Danny’s hold on him turned to an urging to move, and Frank had done it without thinking. Rocking quickly back onto his waist, Danny encouraging him with his panting, his bright eyes. 

“You wanna feel something like that,” he’s whispering. Drawing his knees up just a little, but enough to force Frank forward, to support himself with his elbows on either side of Danny’s head. Moving with him, moving him. 

_ Something,  _ Frank’s thinking to himself,  _ I want to feel something.  _ Out loud, he only groaned, and that made Danny smile. 

“Me and you, Frankie,” he said. “That’s all we fucking need.” 

And, because he didn’t feel like doing anything else, Frank nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay in NO WAY do i actually think parties like this exist in real life and if they did i don't believe the miniscule population of ormond could provide enough kids to make it happen. but unfortunately i don't give a shit about realism
> 
> and yessir that scene with ashley whatserface was heavily inspired by tatum's death scene from scream. i noticed a lot of people maintain danny's creepy phone call trope which i ALSO plan on doing at some point, but i wanted to incorporate a little bit more from the original murder duo, kinda merging them together to make danny an erratically behaved, smooth-talking kid while keeping danny's canon creeper stalker narcissist energy. so i had him play along with ashley in the beginning as a call back to how stu and billy could be a lil goofy :^)
> 
> (idk if i'm even actually doing that like if u can pick it up, but it's what i'm going for, missing the mark or not) 
> 
> also shout out to dwight cameo, because he's canadian now for some reason and also gets bullied in this au too 
> 
> as above, so below, lmk if something needs tagged

**Author's Note:**

> oof. 
> 
> this isn't finished btw and i'm fucking myself over by posting this bcuz me and wip don't get along very well. there is backlog i have written, so there will be more! i just don't know how much more :^(


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